


we deserve to be happy

by certifiedclown



Series: i ain't the first with the curse [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Bad Parent Amanda (Detroit: Become Human), Connor & Markus (Detroit: Become Human) Friendship, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Connor Deserves Happiness, Depression, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Siblings, Fear, Gavin Reed Backstory, Gavin Reed Redemption, Gen, Hurt Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Phobias, Protective Upgraded Connor | RK900, Trans Gavin Reed, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-07 09:20:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20307133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/certifiedclown/pseuds/certifiedclown
Summary: Aphenphosmphobia -  fear of being touched.No, there's nothing wrong with it and there's nothing wrong with him. He's okay, he's fine, he is. It doesn't matter that for a second, for just a split second, he doesn't see Markus or Simon or Hank reaching out to touch him, but Amanda.





	we deserve to be happy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cavedinwriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cavedinwriter/gifts).

Connor doesn't know when this _ aversion _ to touch started, but he wishes it would just go away. It's annoying and people are starting to notice and he doesn't want that because _ he's fine. He fine and there's nothing wrong with him _ . He just doesn't like being touched and what's wrong with that? He's entitled to his personal space, especially after the new android laws were passed. There's _ nothing wrong _ with wanting to keep his distance, right?

No, there's nothing wrong with it and there's nothing wrong with him. He's okay, he's _ fine, he is. _ It doesn't matter that when people touch him he feels so sick that his synthetic stomach hurts or that it makes his skin crawl and his thirium pump lurch in his chest. It doesn't matter that for a second, for just a split second, he doesn't see Markus or Simon or Hank reaching out to touch him, but Amanda.

_ Her touch always hurt, so who’s to say that others won't? _ something small and feeble, almost childlike, within him wonders each time he sees a hand raised towards him. He dismisses this part of himself and scoffs at the irrationality of it, but he can't quite push it down like he wants to. 

It's not like it's impeding on his work/social life, but it is irritating. It's….._ exhausting _ to deal with all the time. He's starting to feel incredibly on edge when around others - even Hank, someone he considers _ family. _

He's ashamed of it.

He feels so guilty that he flinches from a touch to the shoulder, jerks away from a slap on the back, stiffens at a hug or embrace. He feels so ungrateful and unworthy of the people who wish to show him such affection - a type of affection that he can't help but fear. 

If he really thinks on it, if he analyzes his very psyche, then it's easy to pinpoint exactly _ why _ he's so afraid of touch - _ why _ it puts his teeth on edge and _ why _it makes his skin feel so dirty. And these reasons make him feel so disgusting and filthy that he ignores them most of the time.

But he can't really hide from them forever. Amanda will always be with him, no matter what he does. The memory of her will always remain, much like a human scar. And that thought both angers and saddens him. 

In a way, he will never be truly free from her and, by extension, Cyberlife. They've left their bloody mark on him and it has been left alone for so long that it has stained, an ugly smear in his mind palace - an irrefutable flaw.

And then there's the other cause. The stolen memories - his Eden Club souvenirs - that feel too much like his own now. The touches that were too forceful to be suggestive, too controlling to be anything but an order, too uncaring to be soft caresses. 

And these two horrible, horrible memories work in tandem to condemn him to fearing touch like he fears death. And he knows -he _ knows _\- that it hurts them, but can't stop it from happening. He's tried, but it always ends in failure. 

* * *

The first one who notices his fear is, quite unpredictably, Gavin. It starts out like any other day - Connor is simply looking over the paperwork of his latest case when someone slaps him on the shoulder. 

He flinches - _violently_ \- and his breathing picks up, his internal fans whirring at his progressively heating systems. And it's _so obvious_ _that he's panicking. _But it's okay, he'll be fine, he always is. But they won't _stop touching him. He just wants them to stop. Stop touching me, stop touching me, stop, srop, stop, stopstopstopstopIcan'tIcan'tIcan'tcan'tcan'tcan'tAmandapleasestopstopstopstop._

And then his ears begin ringing and he can't breathe and he can't hear and he can't see and _ they're still touching him, why won't they stop touching him? _

"Hey, Chris, leave him alone, will ya?" Gavin Reed' s brusque voice breaks into his debilitating cycle of panic and he blinks away the tears clinging to his eyelashes. "Can't you see he's busy? Don't ya got any respect?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Connor!" the hand retreats from his shoulder and he relaxes marginally, leftover panic keeping his body tense. "I'll leave you to your work."

Chris leaves after that, taking quick steps back to his desk. Finally, the leftover tension eases out of Connor's shoulders and he sighs in relief. Then Gavin Reed sits in the chair he's set by his desk for civilians. The tension slowly creeps back up his spine and he sets his gaze on the usually hostile man.

"Yes, Detective Reed?" he asks as politely as he can, voice more of a rasp than is normal. He pointedly ignores that tell. "Is there something you require?"

Gavin does say anything for several long moments, but then he leans forward and rests his head on his steepled fingers. "When I was younger, I used to have really crazy parents. Like out-the-wazoo crazy."

"Oh?" Connor says out of a lack for better words. Against his better judgement, he leans closer to the detective. "Why are you telling me this, Detective?"

"I don't know," Gavin shrugs, completely noncommittal before his eyes narrow. "I guess I see something I you I recognize, tin can. Something that's eats away at you, gnaws at you like a pesky rat. Something you can't just get rid of."

Connor's speechless. He doesn't understand what's happening. Gavin obviously sees this on his face because he snorts.

"Look up my record, plastic," he orders with a lazy wave of his hand. "You'll understand then."

Connor frowns, but does as he's told. He looks up the detective's record and is more than a little shocked by what he finds. There's hundreds of reports from therapists and social workers - hundreds of papers with little notes saying various things like _ "abused, scared of touch, anxious, depressed, unwilling to connect with others, traumatised." _

He blinks and feels something inside him soften in a strange sad way. He looks at the detective and sees a little boy - age seven - who's only ever been treated like vermin. He sees a victim, but then he blinks and he sees a _ survivor. _ He sees someone he sympathizes with - someone who _ understands _him - and he aches.

"You're," he voices breaks off into static for a few moments and he closes his eyes for before he opens them and meets Gavin's eyes, "you're like me?"

Gavin's expression does something strange and Connor realises with a start that the man is letting his mask fall away - that the gruff exterior was only a façade meant to fool others. And Connor _ aches. _

(Distantly, he remembers Amanda's hand on his cheek - burning and piercing. A bad memory he'll never be rid of.)

"Yeah," Gavin says softly, his voice strangely thick, "yeah. I'm like you, Connor."

"Oh," Connor swallows and continues in a whisper, "does it ever get better?"

Gavin laughs, his eyes shining. "Yeah, it gets better. It takes a little bit, but I _ promise _ you _ , _it gets better."

"Okay," Connor's fingers fidget and he smiles at Gavin shakily, feeling phantom fingers curling around his throat. "I trust you."

And Gavin _ smiles._

* * *

The second time someone notices, it's still Gavin. And it's less of a reaction this time. This time Connor just _ barely _flinches and he doesn't allow any outward reactions show, but Gavin still notices. And he silently hooks a finger around Connor's tie and pulls him away from Ben Millers' hand and into the faculty bathroom.

It's there that he pulls his phone out and sends Connor - they'd exchanged numbers after the first incident - directions to a therapist he used to go to. Connor blinks at the onslaught of data and frowns.

"Gavin," he says, relishing the man's name on his lips even after weeks, "I don't need therapy."

"Bullshit," Gavin retorts easily, pocketing his phone. "You _ know _you need it, Connor. Don't be stubborn on this, okay? Just one session is all I'm askin', alright? Just give it a try."

"I don't know," Connor licks his lips and definitely _ does not _thrill in it when Gavin's eyes follow the movement.

Gavin sighs, but his eyes are understanding. "Look, I know it's scary, but you _ need _ to at least try. I know the woman, she actually _ cares. _ She'll take care of you, I promise. Do this, please, for me?"

"Gavin, I….I don't know," Connor hesitates, his LED an uncertain yellow before he nods. "Okay, fine, I'll do it."

"Thank you, Connor," Gavin smiles - a small, shaky thing that screams vulnerability - and Connor's breath hitches in his chest. "But I don't want you to do this just for me, alright? You have to do this for you too, ya know. You have to want it and you have to put effort in. To get better, I mean."

Connor wants to tell Gavin how he feels in that moment, that small moment where Gavin is open and welcoming, but instead he swallows them down and smiles at the detective. 

This current moment isn't the time or place for a confession. A confession that might even be false - his feelings for Gavin very well could be an exaggeration. Either way, he wouldn't know for sure. He's never felt like this before. So, he bites them back and smiles like butterflies aren't eating at his insides. 

"Of course, Gavin," he says with a smile that doesn't white reach his eyes, but that's okay. Gavin can't notice everything. 

Later that night, when Hank's fallen asleep and Connor is finally alone, he calls the therapist and schedules an appointment with her. He pointedly ignores the heavy, subdued feeling plaguing his thirium pump and _ does not _think of Gavin's smile or eyes.

He doesn't.

* * *

The third time Gavin notices is six months after Connor's started therapy and it's the worst reaction he's had yet. It's so bad that when Connor comes to, everyone at the precinct is staring at him in shock and horror. It's so bad that Connor can't even remember it.

And that fact - the fact that he has to be _ told _about it - hurts more than he can say. 

Gavin helps him through the shock of relapsing that badly and takes him home with him, shielding Connor from the piercing gazes of their co-workers.

"This is it," Gavin says with little fanfare, simply waving at his little apartment. Connor thinks it looks very nice, very homey. It fits Gavin.

Connor is about to compliment Gavin's home when his legs are attacked by three animals seeking affection. Immediately, a coo leaves Connor's lips and he crouches down to bestow pats on their fuzzy foreheads. The cats purr in delight and wow, Connor likes cats too.

"And who are these babies?" he asks Gavin, a slight lilt to his voice as he resists baby-talking the adorable animals. Gavin snorts and crouches next to him, pointing at his cats as he names him.

"That fucker's Armageddon," he points to a black cat with amber eyes before pointing to the other two tabby cats, "and those two are Sammy Swagger and Karen from Accounting."

Connor hesitates. "Those are…...lovely names."

"Conman, don't worry," Gavin laughs in that loud, almost obnoxious way of his where his eyes close from the force of it and Connor has to look away before he gets carried away, "I fuckin' _ know _they're terrible names."

"O-oh," Connor stammers, his face slowly heating up, "I see."

"Yeah," Gavin sighs before he slowly rises to his feet, toeing his shoes off before he steps onto his carpet. Connor follows his example and takes a seat on Gavin's sofa, valiantly ignoring his overheating systems. "You okay, man?"

Connor loosens his tie and swallows. "Yes, I'm fine."

Gavin's shrugs and plops down next to him. "If you say so. Anyway, I brought ya here for a reason, ya know? Not that I don't just enjoy hangin' out - I do, but the….circumstamces are different right now."

"I understand, Gavin," Connor reassures him with a placating smile, thankful that his internal fans have finally kicked in. "I know this isn't exactly ideal for just….hanging out "

"No kidding," Gavin mumbles before he sighs heavily, rubbing a hand over his face before meeting Connor's eyes. "Look, you remember my record, yeah? My biological parents?"

Connor nods and Gavin sighs again. 

"Well, you know they weren't the best; in fact, they were the worst part of people and I'm glad they're locked up," he looks away for a moment. "Luckily I was taken away before they could do anything worse than smack me around. Before they found out I wasn't Emily."

"Oh," Connor blinks and then, "_ oh _."

"Ha yeah, no," Gavin laughs, but this time it's bitter, "I'm really glad they're locked up. My adopted parents are much better, let me tell you. They're the _ best _, Connor. They really are."

"I'm happy for you, Gavin," Connor smiles. "I'm _ so _happy that you got out of that terrible situation and were able to do what you needed to be happy. You deserve it, you really do."

Gavin stares at him for a moment before his eyes soften. "You do too, Connor."

"Thank you, Gavin," Connor murmurs, leaning forward despite himself. "That means a lot."

"Yeah," Gavin whispers, licking his lips and Connor's eyes are drawn to the movement. His eyes flicker back up to Gavin's eyes.

"Gavin," he whispers, placing a hand on the detective's thigh. Gavin swallows and leans into Connor, his hot breath ghosting over Connor's lips.

"Connor," Gavin says hoarsely before he leans forward and captures Connor's lips in his. And the whole world _ blooms. _

And Connor knows he's going to be okay. Gavin and Dr. Hill will help him as long as he needs them too. And maybe one day he won't need the therapy. Maybe one day he won't need Gavin to talk him down. Maybe one day he just won't _ need _ Gavin, but he knows he'll always want him.

The skin on his lips retracts to show his chassis, his programming insisting he interface. It's impossible, but the act makes him feel closer to Gavin.

Impulsively, he takes Gavin's hand in his, the white of his chassis gleaming from the light of the setting sun. His eyes open to meet Gavin's.

"I love you," he says against Gavin's lips, delighting in the smile he feels forming. Gavin kisses him again, softly and sweetly.

"I love you too, Connor."

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first Convin fic, you know.
> 
> Hey, you should totally check out this server I made: [spicy hot takes!](https://discord.gg/UBpDYdQ) It's a server dedicated to your takes on shows, characters, books, etc. Those theories you have bottled up can be aired out there! And I'm there (assuming you like me) so there's that!


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